Gold medal in dickery

February 26, 2010

So the Snowlocaust came and went again, this time being more wind than snow but still being annoying, and that gave me the opportunity to watch the semi-final game between the US and Finland in men’s ice hockey. It also gave me the opportunity to drink a whole case of Winter of Discontent Lager, a beer so strong it would straighten Richard III’s spine. Anyway, the beer and the result of the hockey game gave me cause to do a little drunk dialing.

“Yeah, Mikka!” I yell into my phone at my Finnish friend. “6-1, bitches! What? I said 6-1! Shit, I had more saves than Miikka Kiprusoff this afternoon, and I wasn’t even wearing pants, let alone full goalie gear.”

“Yes, Finland did not play well today,” Mikka says.

“They were fucking destroyed,” I say. “The Swiss put up a better fight against the US. The fucking Swiss. Are you going to tell me the Swiss bring it harder than Finland?”

“Hey, Finland beat the Czech Republic to get into that semi-final game,” says Mikka. “And we’re still playing for a medal.”

“Let’s just hope the men’s team doesn’t choke like the women’s team did against Canada,” says Mikka.

“Let’s hope you like the taste of my balls because that’s what’s on the menu for you after today’s crushing defeat,” I say. “So for this one day you can take your universal health care, your high standard of living, your awesome metal bands, and shove ’em straight up your Scandinavian ass!”

“As long as we didn’t lose to Sweden, that’s all I care about,” says Mikka. “Like we did in 2006. I hate those bastards.”

“You can hate Sweden all you want, but today it’s America pouring you a nice glass of white zinfanhate,” I say. “Vintage 2010, fresh from the vineyards of Ernest and Julio Getting Your Ass Whooped. Take that, Mr. Finland. Mr. Guy with a Girlfriend. Mr. I Don’t Sleep Cold And Alone And Crying Like I Do. USA! USA! USA!”